Page 6 of Flynn

“Did you see anyone in the house? Or hanging around outside?”

“No.” She shivered, wondering if the killer had been out there watching her. Then she decided he couldn’t have been, or he’d have made sure to kill her too. “I was sitting in the rocker in the nursery feeding the baby when I heard glass breaking. I stood and moved to the doorway. When one of the stairs creaked, I dashed across the hall to my room to grab my phone.”

Detective Klem nodded thoughtfully. “Then what happened?”

She stared down at her coffee. “I started to hide in the closet, then thought maybe Steve Miller had broken a glass and was headed to his room. I was about to step out of the closet with Max when I heard the four gunshots.”

“You heard four gunshots?” Klem repeated.

“Yes. But with a brief pause between the first two and second two.” She shivered, remembering. “I froze in the doorway. I was still holding Max when I saw the gunman pass by my bedroom.”

The detective’s bushy eyebrows shot up. “You saw him?”

She nodded. “But only from the side. White male, tall, with a large nose and bearded chin. He was dressed in black.” Another detail popped into her head. “He wore thin black gloves. I... didn’t see the gun, though. He must have had it in his right hand.”

“Do you think you’d recognize him if you saw him again?” Klem asked.

“I honestly don’t know. Maybe if I saw his profile I would, but it was dark, and I was scared out of my mind.” She took a sip of her coffee.

“How old was he?” Klem asked.

She blew out a breath. “I would say twenties or thirties. His beard and hair were dark. No sign of gray. But I didn’t see his full face, so it’s hard to know for sure.”

“I understand, and I’d like you to take a look at some mug shots,” Klem said. “But first tell me what else you remember.”

“I sat in the corner of the closet with Max and texted Flynn. I—we met before, and I was too afraid to call 911 in case he heard me talking. It was shortly after that when I saw the beam of his flashlight playing around the room.”

“He had a flashlight and a gun?” Klem asked.

“I think so.” She wished she’d paid more attention. “I didn’t see either of them in his hand, just the left hand covered in a black glove. But I know there was a beam of light that shone into the room. I was scared he’d find us in the closet, but he didn’t. I assume the sound of police sirens scared him off.”

Despite the recording, she noticed the detective took notes on a pad of paper before looking up at her again. “Then what happened?”

She glanced at Flynn. “Flynn and the other officers arrived.”

Detective Klem sat back in his chair. “What do you know about the Millers?”

“I—not a lot. They’re second cousins on my mom’s side of the family, but I never met or interacted with them before they hired me to be their nanny.”

“What do they do for work?” Klem asked.

“Steve Miller is the president of Brookland Bank, and Robin does some interior designing.” She managed a wry smile. “Apparently, Robin’s most recent client was one of the big-name players from the Milwaukee Bucks. She was excited, hoping that word would spread to other famous athletes.” Her smile faded as she realized Robin Miller would not design anything ever again.

“Bank and interior design,” Klem repeated thoughtfully. “Interesting.”

“You’re thinking the banker was the most likely target for the professional hit,” Flynn said, speaking up for the first time.

Klem shrugged, then slowly nodded. “Gotta follow the money. And as you say, this whole situation reeks of cold professionalism. Not a crime of passion.”

“I didn’t notice that anything in the house was taken,” Flynn went on. “From what Taylor is describing, it doesn’t sound like the perp had much time to search the place.”

“We have the crime scene techs out there now, but you’re right,” Klem admitted. “From what I’ve been told, the place looks remarkably undisturbed.”

Taylor shivered. “Robin has a cleaning service too. They come in weekly on Tuesdays.” She had to think for a moment. “Today is Thursday, right?”

“Yes, that’s good information. If we do find any fingerprints not belonging to you or the family, that may help,” Klem said. “We’ll need your prints so we can rule yours out. And I’d like your phone number too.”

“Okay.” Being fingerprinted and providing her contact info was the least she could do to help find the man who’d killed Steve and Robin Miller. “I’m happy to look at mug shots, although I’m not sure I’ll be able to recognize the gunman. But what about the baby? Max Miller?” She rested her hand on the infant car seat. “What’s going to happen to him?”

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